Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. “They were sent to me by Mr. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. It cuts. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. .
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